


Bloodmarch Family Values

by vivisextion



Series: The Bright Side [3]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Comedy, Dad in Drag, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivisextion/pseuds/vivisextion
Summary: Damien Bloodmarch throws the best Halloween parties, and this year, the costumes are all in the family. The Addams Family, to be exact.





	Bloodmarch Family Values

**Author's Note:**

> It's now September, so I'm allowed to post this.

“Amanda- I can’t breathe-”

Amanda pulls the laces of my corset tighter. “Suck it in, Dad. No pain, no gain.” She tugs some more. “No socks, no shoes.” She yanks them even harder. “No hair, no haircut.”

There is the slight possibility I may be having a stroke from lack of oyxgen, because I understood none of that. Finally, she ties the laces together, and I stand up straighter than usual. I breathe a sigh of relief, or try to anyway. Amanda whistles and pats me on the back.

“Phew. Well done, Dad.”

Her own costume is a black and white striped t-shirt and black shorts. I get the feeling she chose something that required minimal effort so she could put all her energy into creating mine. For weeks, she’s been scouring the internet for the various elements, and now she’s assembling her pièce de résistance. I wasn’t sure about this at first, but I have to say, the girl knows her stuff.

“Dad, I have seen every single season of RuPaul's Project Next Top Drag Face Runway Model Off at least twice,” she assures me, as she pulls out half a dozen different products from her bag. “I have trained for this day.”

“Even the one that looks like it was filmed through a Vaseline filter?”

“Yes, Dad. Even that one.”

She’s already done my make-up, which she practiced long and hard for, contouring my cheekbones just right. My face is the palest it’s ever been. My lips have been perfectly painted a deep ruby red. I have no idea how she made my eyebrows this thin, just that it involved a gluestick. Wearing false eyelashes feels like there’s a spider constantly tickling my face with its legs, but I have to resist the urge to scratch at my face.

“I learned how to cut a crease for you. Remember that when you’re writing your will,” she tells me. “Also, be glad I didn't make you tuck.”

She places a wig on my head, positioning it carefully, and now I have long, raven tresses. The corset is really limiting a lot of my movement, and Amanda has to help me into my skintight dress and high heels.

“I haven’t worn heels in forever,” I mutter.

Amanda gives me an incredulous look. “You’ve worn heels before?”

“Yeah, well, after the Skammunist Manifesto, I had other hobbies.”

Now that my entire outfit is complete, I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t even recognise the figure standing there. I look _fine._

“Dayum, gurl,” Amanda snaps her fingers. “You betta work.”

“Amanda, my dear, you have simply outdone yourself.” I pose for the mirror, pouting my painted lips. “I believe I am, as the kids say, ‘serving it’.”

I totter around the room, trying to familiarise myself with the foreign sensation of high heels. It takes a while to remember how to walk in them, but I manage eventually. “It’s like riding a bike,” I tell Amanda, with an air of false confidence. “You just wobble around for the first half an hour, then you’re good.”

“You’re doing better than me. I can’t wear them at all.” Amanda laughs, and pats me on the back. “Come on, let’s not keep Damien waiting.”

I grimace. “Yeah, I'm sure he's just about dying to see the most muscular Morticia Addams there ever was.”

“You look drop dead gorgeous, Dad,” Amanda insists. “Now sissy that walk!”

We’d been getting ready in one of Damien’s guest rooms the entire afternoon, and now the sun was setting. Guests were about to arrive at any moment. Damien’s Halloween parties, as I quickly learned the year Amanda and I moved into the cul-de-sac, were legendary. Even Brian admits it. I’m not sure whether to believe the rumours that Ernest once summoned a demon in the basement, though.

This year, we decided to dress up as a group, and go as the Addams Family. Damien is already waiting in the foyer, as Amanda helps me down the stairs. I’m still positive I’ll trip and break my neck falling down them, but at least she’s here to cushion my fall if that happens. Damien looks up, and when he sees me, he gasps, eyes wider than dinner plates.

Damien is dressed as Gomez Addams, of course. He’s wearing a black and grey pinstriped suit, which fits him perfect, his hair slicked back into in a neat ponytail. I notice the addition of a pencil mustache, which would look ridiculous on anyone else, but on him is very dashing.

I finally make it down the stairs alive, and stand next to him. I’m a little taller than he is now, with the shoes. He’s still staring at me in shock.

“Hello, darling.”

I make an attempt at a seductive smile, which seems to work. Enraptured, he takes my hand, which Amanda has expertly manicured. The nails are crimson and filed into a shape she calls ‘squoval’, which I guess is a cross between a square and an oval. He kisses my fingers, not taking his eyes off me.

“Never once have I ever dreamed that I would one day behold such beauty,” he whispers, pulling me closer and kissing up my arm, “let alone hold it in my arms.”

“Thanks,” I say, trying not to blush. “You look hot too.”

Damien finishes with a kiss to my shoulder, gazing deep into my eyes. In a movie, this is where the romantic music would begin to swell. He leans in, and so do I, closing my eyes, when -

\- Amanda smacks him on the arm, waving a hand between our faces. “You are not ruining that lipstick, mister. I spent ages getting it perfect. She wags a finger at the both of us. “No funny business, you two.” Damien looks a little sheepish, but won’t let go of my waist.

At that moment, Lucien saunters down the stairs, with long black braided pigtails, a face as pale as mine, wearing a black dress with a large white collar. He’s got the same expression that Wednesday always had down pat, like she could stab you and not feel a thing.

He grins at his father. “Nice suit, Dad.” Then he looks over and smirks at me. “Nice dress, Mom.”

“Lucien! You look adorable! If only Grandmother could see you.”

Lucien grimaces. “I’d rather not. She’d pinch my cheeks off or something.”

“I wish she were here,” Damien sighs, holding me close to him. “She would adore you, my love, I know she would.” He won't stop smooching my hand.

“We’re standing right here, you know,” Amanda says. Lucien looks like he’s about to gag.

“Has she… passed on?” I hesitate to ask.

“No, she's just retired and living in Boca.”

“Oh, so there’s a chance she could hate my guts, then.”

Damien huffed. “I find it hard to believe that anyone would fail to fall in love with you at first sight.”

“Then you should be on your guard tonight,” I tease. “To fend off potential romantic rivals.”

“Is that what this is for?” Amanda picks up a long, thin metal sword leaning against the wall behind him.

“It’s my Great Aunt Lucretia’s. She was a champion fencer. I found it in the attic and thought it went with the costume.”

Lucien’s busy texting on his phone. “You should probably keep that out of Ernest’s reach,” he says without looking up from it.

Damien claps a hand to his forehead. “Oh, good Heavens. I hadn’t considered that.” 

“I’ll put it back in the attic. You guys go ahead.” Amanda takes it upstairs. “Lucien, you’re on anti-makeout duty.” She seizes him by the shoulders. “Do not, under any circumstances, let them kiss.”

Without batting an eyelash, he drawls, “Is there some kind of curse that happens if they do?”

“Just don’t let them mess up that make-up. I worked on it for hours. Remember, Lucien!” Amanda yells, as she thunders up the stairs.

“Come on then. Time to meet our guests at the gate,” Damien claps, rubbing his hands together with glee. He’s never this excited at any other time of the year. He offers his arm to me, like a true gentleman, and I take it as we head out into his garden.

Damien has truly outdone himself. Every year, he goes all out with the decorations, even going so far as to hire actors. This time, the theme appears to be childhood nightmares made flesh. His impeccable garden has been turned into a landscape of horrors, and more than once, I find myself questioning exactly how realistic some of these props are. Broken dolls and mannequin parts are strewn everywhere. Is that clown in the corner real? It’s standing way too still, but then again, it could be one of those statue actors who are just really good at that.

To one side, a band is setting up. We walk over to them, as Damien tells me that they are the Unhallowed Arts, a rock band he’d met through Mat. All four band members are wearing skeleton-themed outfits, complete with accessories. The drummer looks like he’s wearing boots that could easily kick a hole in the garden wall. A young man with black and gray braids sets his guitar down as he spots us approaching.

“Hey, guys. Be done soon, once Joey finds his drumsticks.” He eyes Lucien up and down, slackjawed. “Whoa, baby. Look at you.” He takes Lucien’s hand, bowing low to kiss the back of it. Lucien flushes a bright pink, even more so after Salem leans in to whisper something in his ear.

“May I introduce Salem, the frontman of the Unhallowed Arts, and my son’s paramour,” Damien says, by way of introduction. I shake hands with him.

“Thanks for letting us play at your party, Mister Bloodmarch and, uh…” Salem glances at me in confusion. I can see why, as I do look like a suspiciously large woman. “Mrs Bloodmarch?”

I try to gigglesnort in the most ladylike way possible. Damien is doing a good job keeping a straight face.

“I’m sure you’ll perform splendidly, Salem. Ready when you are, gentlemen,” he calls to the rest of the band, who wave back. “Mrs, um… Mrs Bloodmarch and I must check on the refreshments.”

We excuse ourselves in a hurry and move away, or as quickly as I can in heels and this tight dress, so we can laugh our asses off. I try to stop before tears of laughter ruin my mascara.

“So apparently I'm your missus now,” I manage to say, my voice still wavering.

“Mrs Bloodmarch does have a nice ring to it,” he agrees, but Damien’s voice is threatening to crack.

A pair of blonde children approach us, wearing matching white and blue outfits with long socks, startling us out of our amusement. It takes me far too long to work out that they’re Christie and Christian, not the twins from The Shining. They blend perfectly into this garden of creeping terror Damien has constructed.

“Come play with us, Damien,” they intone together. “Forever… and ever… and ever.”

Damien beams at them. “Oh, bravo, children. Did your mother teach you that? Ah, speak of the Devil.”

Mary walks up behind them, dressed as a nun, except the entire outfit appears to be made of latex. I don’t even want to know where she managed to get that from.

“Bless you, my child.” She grins at us. “You two look incredible. Did Amanda do the makeup?”

“Indeed. She’s busy putting all sharp objects away before Ernest arrives,” Damien tells her.

“Shame. There could have been a lot of potential hilarity there.” She wanders off after her children.

Suddenly, Damien lets out a scream. I quickly turn around to look at what’s terrified him. Donald Trump is making his way over to us, but as he comes closer, we realise it’s just Joseph.

“Oh, my stars. You gave me such a turn, Joseph.” Damien clutches his chest. Joseph’s outfit is pretty realistic, so I’m not surprised. He’s got the windblown wig just right, and appears to have gotten a spray tan with the machine set on Cheeto. Beside him, Chris is sulking away and dressed as Barron Trump, although really, he’s just wearing a child-sized formal suit.

“I’m gonna give everybody the biggest fright of their life,” Joseph says, doing a passable imitation of the tangerine nightmare. “It’s gonna be yuge.”

Robert stalks up next to Joseph, who jumps a little. It’s not hard to see why - the man looks monstrous. Robert is unshaven, salt and pepper stubble on his face, his hair gray and untamed. His sunken-in eyes and cheeks make him look years older than he is. He has sharp teeth and dried blood all over his mouth. His clothes are shredded, not much more than rags.

“What are you supposed to be, Robert?” I ask. It’s kind of hard to tell, because apart from his attire and dental modifications, he just looks like that sometimes.

“A wendigo,” Robert answers. “A creature from Algonquian folklore, possessed by a single-minded desire for human flesh.”

“No human flesh, my friend, but we have suitable facsimiles over there on the snack table.” Damien waves an arm towards it. “Will the cupcakes suffice? They ooze sugary blood.”

Robert grins evilly. “They’ll do.” He stalks off again, heading straight for the dark chocolate cupcakes with the gooey red centres, presumably to start a feeding frenzy.

Mat turns up next, dressed in a psychedelic shirt, with his locs tied up in a matching headband, and a patterned, purple satin vest. It’s not an easy look to pull off, but Mat has enough cool in him to manage.

“Let me guess.” I think hard for a minute. “Jimi Hendrix?”

“One of my musical heroes,” Mat laughs. Next to him, Carmensita is clearly dressed as Wonder Woman.

“And you must be Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta!” Damien exclaims.

Carmensita strikes a strong pose, a proud warrior. “I will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves!”

Behind her, Daisy runs up to us. Wonder Woman seems to be a popular choice with the young ladies this year, because Daisy, too, is dressed as her. Carmensita squeals in delight, and the two girls begin discussing the movie with rapidfire excitement.

“Now I feel underdressed,” grins Amanda. “It’s a good thing we have two Wonder Women here tonight. I saw Donald Trump walking around. I’m not sure one is enough to defeat him.”

“We must stop the great darkness simmering within!” Daisy proclaims, brandishing her fake sword. The three of them run off together. I fear for Joseph.

Brian finally catches up to us, laughing in his jolly manner. He's dressed like Aquaman, his face and body covered in glittery makeup to look like fish scales.

“I'm no Jason Momoa, but not bad, huh? We went for a DC father-daughter team-up this year! Daisy did the scales. Isn't she clever? She learned it on the YouTube,” Brian tells us proudly.

“Amanda too. That's how she did my make-up.” I smile sweetly, trying not to let the competitive spirit get to me, but clearly, my daughter has outshone everyone in the cosmetic department today. Brian better recognise.

Damien, ever the diplomat, cuts in and explains, “The girls are over there, trying to subdue the ultimate evil.”

Brian scratches his head. “Termites?”

“Something far more destructive.” Damien points over to where the girls are planning an ambush, keeping a close eye on their target from behind the rose bush.

“Oh, boy.” Brian glances at an oblivious Joseph. “I'll tell you what, he's gonna be harder to get rid of.”

A dark figure swoops into view, with a flourish of its cape. I peer at it.

“Craig?”

“I’m Batman,” he croaks, in a hoarse voice. Beside him, Briar and Hazel are dressed as Robin and Nightwing. Craig’s Batman costume is quite well done, and I’m sure the muscles visible through his suit aren’t made of foam rubber. Strapped to his chest, River sports a makeshift gray wig and bowtie.

“This is Alfred,” he growls, by way of explanation, not dropping his Batman voice. “Say hi, Alfred.”

Damien laughs. “A classic. You play the part well, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Craig rasps. “Wow, that really messes up your throat,” he says, in his normal voice. Craig looks over at me, laughing. “Dude! I haven’t seen you in drag since college!”

I turn this way and that, striking a pose, giving them goth matriarch realness. “It’s all Amanda. She styled me.” Briar and Hazel ooh and aah. “If you’re looking for her, she’s helping two versions of Wonder Woman defeat a real travesty to humankind.”

Craig cocks his head to one side, confused. “Processed junk food?”

“Close, a humanoid Creamsicle.” I gesture towards the far end of the garden, where Carmensita and Daisy are chasing Joseph around with their Lassos of Truth.

“I, on the other hand, have to bring that snack table to justice.” Craig always had his priorities right. “You know what the vigilante policy on cookies is.”

“Unlimited!” cheer the twins. The Cahn clan disappear into the night, headed right for the witch finger cookies with almond flakes for nails.

“Those are the snacks Craig deserves, but not the ones his diet needs right now,” I muse.

Damien chuckles. “Some men just want to watch the world eat.”

Hugo finally shows up, dressed as a salty sea captain. Beside him, Ernest is dressed as himself. Beside him, Duchess Cordelia has been decorated in white paint with a dog skeleton on her fur.  

“Duchess!” squeals Damien, crouching down. Duchess seems to recognise him, because she bounds up to Damien and starts to lick his face, nearly bowling him over. His moustache is in danger of disappearing off his face with every swipe of her giant tongue. Damien looks up at Ernest.

“This is safe, is it not?”

“Don't worry,” the kid says. “Non-toxic paint. Did my research.”

I analyse Hugo’s outfit. Knowing him, it has to be a literary reference.

“Aha! Moby Dick, right?” I answer confidently.

“Correct! Someone paid attention in high school literature. Duchess here is, of course, the Hound of the Baskervilles.”

“And what are you supposed to be, Ernest?” Damien asks.

“I'm a homicidal maniac,” Ernest mutters, looking bored. “They look just like everyone else.”

Joey appears to have finally found his drumsticks, because I hear the familiar screech of garage band amp feedback.

“Ladies and gentleman,” comes a deep, dramatic rumble from the mic. “In honour of our hosts, here’s a little something special.”

Salem points at us, and then the band kicks off with a heavy metal version of the Addams Family theme song. It's still very catchy. Damien looks at me with a broad smile.

“How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?”

“Oh, Damien.” I sigh at him. “Hours.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, although technically it isn't a floor, just an open area of the garden. Damien laughs as we try our best to ballroom dance to it. He twirls me around, which makes me laugh too. Despite these heels, I manage to boogie on down pretty well. The amount of dad dancing at this shindig is too damn high, but everyone seems to be having a great time anyway. Even the Wonder Womans… Women…? have taken a break from justice to party.

Things are starting to heat up, but when the first few iconic notes of Thriller blast from the speakers in guitar riff form, it gets turned up to eleven.

“Can't have a Halloween party without this song!” Damien shouts over the music. Every dad in the place apparently not only agree with him, but also knows the dance. I think at this point in our lives, we all had to learn it for a wedding or two. Even the kids seems to dig it. I mean, who doesn't love the King of Pop, right?

“This is so much better than that Discmaster Finn guy!” I shout back.

The Unhallowed Arts busts out classic Halloween tune after another, and we dance the night away. Once it's over though, my feet are absolutely killing me. Damien helps me over to a chair so I can kick the heels off for a moment. I'm sure that just counted as my cardio for the day.

“Oof. I forgot what a pain these are.” I sigh as he hands me a glass of blood-red fruit punch and a straw, so as not to ruin my lipstick. What a thoughtful man. I blow him a kiss, the best I can do due to the Amanda-imposed embargo on kissing. Being the lovable dork he is, he pretends to catch it and press it to his face.

I sit for a while, wiggling some feeling back into my toes, as more current Top 40 music plays from the speakers. The band converges upon the snack table, rewarding themselves with baked goods after a hard night’s work. It's only then I notice someone missing.

“Say, have you seen Amanda?” I peer around the dance floor, but Amanda is nowhere to be found. The other kids are still partying it up. The Wonder Women are dancing, as are Robin and Nightwing, as are Ernest and Duchess.

“Not since Spooky Scary Skeletons.” He scans the garden with a look of concern. “I must admit, I've been very distracted…” He kisses my hand just once. “We’ll ask the others. I'm sure she's close by.”

I slip my heels back on, and walk over to nudge Mat. He's busy busting a move to some Bruno Mars with Carmensita, but pauses for a moment.

“Hey, dude. Have you seen Amanda?” I ask.

“I saw her getting funky to Black Magic Woman, but that was like half an hour ago,” Mat replied.

We try Brian next, who's sitting down and having a rest from partying hard, fanning himself. Damien hands him a drink, which Brian accepts gratefully.

“Brian, my good man. Have you happened upon Amanda recently?”

Brian hummed, deep in thought. “I know she was dancing along with the Wonder Women when they played This is Halloween.”

I spot Craig re-hydrating in a corner. Dancing is quite an intense workout, after all.

“Bro, you seen Amanda just now?”

He downs more water, then says, “Few songs ago? Saw her rocking out to Highway to Hell with the Bat Twins for sure.”

We come across Hugo at the snack table next, in a heated discussion with Joey the drummer about different genres of metal, and how you can't compare thrash metal and power metal. Damien taps him on the shoulder.

“Hugo! Have you chanced upon Amanda at all?”

Hugo pauses his debate to consider. “Probably not after the band did Number of the Beast just now. Sorry.”

The two of us discover Robert lurking in a corner, cigarette in his hand. He puts it out when we approach.

“Robert, have you come across Amanda?” Damien asks him.

“Huh,” he grunts. “Maybe during Bark at the Moon. I left for a smoke break.”

“We’re getting closer,” I tell Damien. He nods encouragingly.

“Soon we will deduce her last known whereabouts.”

It took us a while to find Trump - I mean, Joseph - because he’s concealed behind a gargoyle.

“Shhh. Don't give my position away. We’re playing hide and seek!” Joseph tells us in an excited whisper. “It's been ages and they haven't found me.”

“Aha! A clue,” Damien declares. “Amanda must be participating.”

I shake my head. “That can't be right. The other kids are still on the dance floor. Who's seeking?”

“Christie and Christian,” Joseph replies in hushed tones. Damien and I look at each other.

“I don't like the sound of this.”

“Neither do I, my love. Let us join this game as the seekers, and find our daughter.”

We walk back to the house together, when I realise something.

“You just said ‘our daughter’,” I point out.

He gives me a bashful smile. “I mean, we are a family now… and I care for her the same as I do for Lucien.” 

It's enough to turn my heart into a sappy little puddle, to know that he thinks of Amanda like that. “Awww, Damien. I'd kiss you now, but Amanda will kill me. Once we find her, anyway.”

I kick off the shoes inside the front door as we set off to locate our missing child. Maybe it's just that most of the lights are off. Maybe it's just that time of year. Maybe I'm just a giant wuss. But a dark atmosphere seems to pervade the house right now. It's eerie.

I hike up my skirt and we climb the stairs. Music is playing from one of the rooms, and it turns out to be coming from Lucien’s. Damien strides forward and opens the door.

“Lucien, dear, have you seen - oh, my goodness, I'm terribly sorry!”

Lucien and Salem, who had been kissing passionately, jerk away from each other. They're sitting on the floor, and Lucien is perched on his boyfriend’s lap. They both still have their clothes on. I think. Salem gives us a sheepish little wave.

“It's not what it looks like,” Lucien says.

Lucien’s black lipstick is smeared all over his mouth. Salem has black lipstick smeared all over his mouth. I may not be Sherlock Holmes, but still.

“So you _aren't_ making out?” I ask.

“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Lucien admits.

“We’ll just leave you two alone now, pardon our interruption.” Damien moves to shut the door again, but not before I call out ‘Remember to use protection!’. I hear Lucien groan ‘Mom!’ in response.

“Well, that's more proof that all parents exist to embarrass their children.” Damien smirks.

I toss my hair. “I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom.”

We slink away, checking everywhere we can think of, even the closets and bathrooms. Nothing. I look inside the room we got ready in, thinking she might have come back for her belongings. Unfortunately, it's in the same state we left it, like a very fashionable tornado came rampaging through.

Suddenly, we hear loud thumps coming from the ceiling. We both jump and clutch at each other. I may also have screamed like a little girl.

“What was that?!”

“It… it sounded like it was above us.” Damien exhales shakily, as I pat my padded chest.

“At this rate, I'm going to have a heart attack before we find her.”

“Don't worry, darling.” Damien looks determined, holding me by my considerably narrower waist. “I may be just as terrified, but at least we aren't alone. We have each other.”

“Oh, Damien,” I gush. Again, if this was a movie, orchestral music would sweep in right now, as we both lean in, staring deep into each other eyes, our mouths about to meet -

I stop short. “Dammit, I was so sure she would come barging in to stop us.”

Damien sighs. “If there were a way to summon her, you'd think that would be it.” He swallows nervously. “Time to investigate the source of that noise, don't you think?”

“For Amanda.” I nod, attempting a very painted brave face.

We creep up the stairs with as little noise as we can. There's nothing much up here, except…

“The attic,” I whisper. “It's always the attics that are haunted in movies.”

“My attic isn't haun-”

The thumps happen again, and this time it sounds even closer, almost deafening.

“You sure about that?” I hiss.

“Only one way to find out.” He gulps and pushes open the attic door gingerly. We peek our heads in, but there's no one.

“See? No spiritual manifestations here,” Damien declares. “Nothing paranorm-”

The banging happens again, several feet away from us. This time, we both scream.

“Dad?! Let me out!”

It's definitely Amanda’s voice. Damien and I stare at each other dumbfounded.

“Amanda! Where are you?”

“Inside the trunk! Over here!”

We rush over. There's a large old-fashioned trunk, the kind you'd see loaded onto a steam train, a relic from another time. Damien quickly unlocks the catch and Amanda bursts out, gasping for air.

“Amanda, dear, what on earth are you doing in there?” Damien asks.

“Those evil twins locked me in there! We were playing hide and seek and I came in here to hide, obviously, and got into the trunk. It's like they knew with their creepy psychic powers I was in this thing!” She frowns and brushes cobwebs off her shirt. “I'm going to get those two little rascals.”

“It's a good thing we found you, or you'd be an urban legend by now.” I hug her out of relief.

“You gave us such a fright.” Damien looks a little sheepish. “We thought you were…”

“Something that goes bump in the night?” Amanda grins.

“More or less,” I admit.

Back outside, the party's winding down. The band is already packing up. We've been missed, as is apparent when Mary, who looks a little tipsy even though we served no alcohol, saunters up to us. She probably has a hip flask under that latex nun outfit.

“Dames! Where were you?” She spots me and gives us a salacious smile. “Have you two been-”

“Absolutely not!” Damien blushes. “We went to look for our missing daughter, is all.” Mary raises an eyebrow.

“Your twins locked her in a trunk in the attic,” I explain.

“Those children, I swear. I bet the babysitter let them watch The Omen. They've been getting these... ideas lately.” She rolls her eyes. “I'll take them home. It's getting late anyway.”

It seems like the others are all tuckered out, too. The guests slowly start to file out of the garden, waving their goodbyes at us and thanking Damien for the killer party. Even the clown that was standing motionless in the corner is nowhere to be seen, but that just makes me more unsettled. As we walk past the gargoyle, I notice a figure crouched behind it. I look down. Joseph is still hiding there. I poke him with a manicured finger.

“Hey, Joseph, party’s over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.”

“Oh!” Joseph stands up and brushes the dirt off his suit. “I think I won that round.” Damien gives him a wry smile as Joseph runs to catch up with his family.

“What a strange man,” he mutters.

Back in the work room, as Amanda calls it, she removes all my drag accoutrements. I can finally take an actual, full breath when she loosens my corset. It's nice to have working lungs again. As Amanda carefully takes off all my paint, it’s almost strange to see my bare face. Soon, I'm back to being regular Dad, but I get the feeling it won't be long before I'm in drag again.

“There goes my masterpiece,” Amanda sighs. “At least I took five million photos to document it.”

At last, I am fully de-dragged, and free to go. I find Damien in his bedroom, also back in his comfortable clothes. His pencil moustache is gone, his hair let down. He takes me in his arms, hugging my uncorseted waist.

“Amanda says you're allowed to kiss me now,” I tell him.

“Excellent,” he murmurs. “Oh, darling, I've been waiting all night for this.”

He cups my cheek in his hand, pulls me closer and kisses me with all the pent-up passion he's been holding in all night. This time, the orchestra doesn't stop playing the sweeping romantic music. He only releases me after a good long minute, and I swear I'm seeing stars.

“Damien,” I say breathlessly. “Wow, I need to get in drag more often.”

“My dear, you are beautiful to me, always.” He holds me close, lifting my hand up to smooch up it again and again. “I am unworthy of such splendor, undeserving of such radiance.”

“Maybe next time I'll leave it on after the party, just for you.” I grin at him. He makes happy little groans at the thought of it, and smooches up my shoulder to my neck.

“Let's make things _really_ go bump in the night, shall we?” he purrs in my ear.

I shudder. “I thought you'd never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Amanda is quoting Eddie Izzard at the beginning. You get a cookie if you spot all the Drag Race references.


End file.
